


Always Find My Way Back To You

by Animebrains



Series: What is love? [3]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Affairs, Bisexual Richie Tozier, Bottom Richie Tozier, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gay Sex, M/M, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie and Eddie meet again, Richie’s comedy career, Switch Richie Tozier, They don’t remember eachother, Top Eddie Kaspbrak, continuation of plot, dealing with internalized homophobia, falling in love all over again, sorry Myra, they are both in their 20’s
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:28:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22661017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Animebrains/pseuds/Animebrains
Summary: Richie, can’t seem to figure out why he can’t remember much about his childhood in Derry. But he so desperately wants to find out what he misses so much about the awful  place. He works on his standup comedy career, while also discovering more about himself, and his sexuality. One day he gets a sick gig at a office party, it pays good but when he preforms, he notices a beautiful man laughing in the crowd of suit-wearing-business-men. Something about him is just so familiar. And Richie, not only wants to get to know the guy, but maybe get in his pants.The only problem is. The guy’s engaged.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Minor! Richie Tozier/Connor Bowers, Richie Tozier/ Eddie Kaspbrak, minor! Richie Tozier/original character(s)
Series: What is love? [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1520972
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	1. Fuzzy memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie Tozier was now, in his twenties, a struggling comedian trying to find his place in the world. There's just one problem. He can't seem to remember his past. And that bothered him more then he'd like to admit.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck. FUcK.

Richie, was so god damn sick and tired of existing. So much damn energy and work put into something, to just receive not even half back, in return, for his efforts. 

It was always hard to find the words for feelings you didn't even know why you were feeling. How do you explain emotions, when your brain can't even comprehend why they are happening. 

'Well that's a pretty loaded question sir' Richie says to the imaginary conversation partner throwing hypotheticals at him all day. 

'The only thing loaded is this gun I'm gonna put to your head' his inquisitive, pretend discussion buddy threatens. 

'WOAH, Calm down dude—' Richie tries, but  
the voice in his head was always a bad listener. See aforementioned, in a attempt to figure out the emotions he feels, sometimes Richie thinks, why not just kill off that side of himself? 

'Cause you're too much of a coward to'

'Who are you to judge me? You're a part of me.' Richie counters. 

'I'm not the one talking to myself..'

"That must had been hard for you" Richie's therapist says from across the room, her eyes soft and gentle. He watches the corners of her mouth twitch when he sprawls out on the leather couch more, in the middle of trying to get out of his head and listen to what he was actually telling her. He can't bring himself to do anything else but nod, knowing it's true, but feeling too pathetic to admit why. He's a adult now, one that fucking pays taxes, and while 21 years old doesn't necessarily mean he should be the embodiment of maturity. He had at least hoped he would be better at coping by now. Coping with life. Adulthood. Relationships. Work. His memories..

How do you deal with memory loss with no apparent reasoning? It was baffling how every day he remembered less and less details. And why? He never hit his head or anything? He had went to the doctors and hospitals many times to get X-rays and scans to see if he had something wrong with him. Amnesia, maybe a early case of Alzheimer's or maybe he was just stupid? 

And why did it bother him so much? His therapist said, there might have been traumatic instances during his childhood, that caused his brain to try and block out the memories. That's good right? Forgetting bad memories. But why does it feel like there's something. Something worth remembering. Amongst the sadness and fear, there's this tugging in his chest, bright and blinding. It nags him, at the back of his head, pestering his deepest thoughts. 'Remember me'.

It had only been a few years since he left Derry with his mom, but now that he was living on his own, each memory from his youth was getting more and more fuzzy. Distant like a boat over the shore line. He so desperately wanted to jump onto the water and swim to it. But he didn't know why it was so important. 

The only thing that he had that tied him to his past, was the tattoo on his wrist. "Lucky Seven." What the fuck was that supposed to mean? Sure, seven is a lucky number. But was that it? Just a lucky number? 

His therapist, Miss Ryan, gives him a patient smile, waiting for him to continue his train of thought. They would spend hours a day, talking about the few memories he COULD scrape together. So she can remind him of those memories lest he forget them later on. To serve, as his own personal memory bank.

What he doesn't talk about though is some of the really WEIRD memories: he doesn't know if it's because he wants to forget them. Or if it is something that might get him locked up in some type of institution. 

One kept poking at the inside of his skull for the past few days. 

He was a kid, long lanky, awkward but filled with so much joy. But during this particular memory? He was scared, truly filled to the brim with fear. 

What was it? Like some type of ritual with smoke.. smoke hole!

He remembers, sitting in a group of other children. Each one leaving until it was just him, and another boy. He had dark skin and a bright smile. They breathed in the smoke and poof! It was dark? And weird, like being in another world. Being able to see everything, yet nothing all at once and then, speak to the turtle. The turtle?

He doesn't know if he had done drugs as a child, or if he had such a insanely active imagination that it manifested and ingrained itself so deeply in his mind, that he truly believed that memory was real. But who knows. 

He doesn't remember much of those peoples faces, they are all like clouds of fog. Figures with no discernible features. But. There is one. Just one. The small boy he would hold the hands of every waking moment of his day. The look of his face, soft and yet still striking, he was less blurry, like he was actively fighting to not be forgotten. He, that boy. Felt so familiar and safe, so Richie held onto that. He just wish he could remember that boy's name. His face would always pop into Richie's head, whenever he passed the pasta aisle at the grocery store. And his eyes would land on the packets of spaghetti lined up along the dull white wall. And then? He would openly weep, just cry in the middle of the store like some fucking crazy person. Still. He didn't want to loose that boy. Whoever he was. 

"Do you remember what we talked about? About coping mechanisms?" Miss Ryan said again, pulling Richie out of his head. 

"Yea— when I feel stressed or some shit, I need to take my mind off it?" He said it more like a question, but she nodded, giving him a encouraging smile. "And to find healthy ways of doing that. Music, movies, writing jokes." 

"Great Richie!" She began, "What's important, is that during those moments you feel anxious, or sad, try and take focus on something else, until you are feeling better, and are in a better headspace to deal with those feelings." Richie fidgets with his fingers, pressing his thumb over his wrist, the choppy lettering of his tattoo bringing him some comfort in a weird way. 

"So, next week, when we meet again, what will you want to have worked on as a goal?" 

Richie wanted to be snarky, and say he just wants to remember. But that's a empty pot to stir at this point. "I guess, my mood?" 

She writes that down in her notes and smiles, "well, we will definitely work on that—" she stops when the timer on her desk goes off. 

Finally time ran out, and he was politely escorted out of the therapists office, given a paper for the next appointment. 

He was lucky he could afford a therapist in the first place. It wasn't his own money paying for it. But his mother's. 

Moving out to LA was a bold move, but one he wanted to take. He wanted to make it in the industry, and to do so, it would take getting some connections, meeting people. It sucks to literally have no fucking money though. He eats nothing but bread and maybe sometimes ramen. The only person he is actively staying in contact with, is his mother. She apologized for not doing anything to protect him as a child, so she sends him a check with half of the money she makes every month from her job, so he can eat. And get therapy. "I know it's late, but I'd like to try again and be a mother." She told him over the phone before sending the first check. Richie forgives her. He truly does. Which is a crazy feeling because he feels like he shouldn't, but can't remember why. 

But that's not the point of this all really. It was more about Richie finding himself, and becoming the famous comedian he was always meant to be. 

The universe, seems to want Richie to do the first option first. 

He heads back home to his crappy flat, a one bedroom, that he barely afford if it weren't for a roommate. Speaking of which, he opens the front door to see his girlfriend Lily looking bored, flipping through a magazine. Her eyes whip up to look at him, and she gives him a sweet smile. They had been dating for a few maybe 8 months now, they met at a bar after Richie did a open mic set, and totally botched all the jokes. But somewhere in the distance, she was laughing in a silent crowd, cheering him on. They've been together since, and Richie thinks it going pretty well. Hopefully she feels the same. She has this, wonderful light brown hair and freckles, her nose scrunches up when she laughs, and when she gets passionate talking about something, she forgets the whole world is even there. And god is she a clean freak, and obsessive about every little detail. But that's what he likes about her. 

They've spoken, about where the relationship might go, they both agree that marriage isn't something they want, outside of that though, they've had no further talk about their dynamic, well that is, until later that night. 

Richie lays on the mattress in their room, hair a mess, stuck to his forehead from the sweat. He's sprawled out on the bed, it's pressed up against the wall, no bed frame yet, but it still does the job. He huffs out a tired breath, having just finished in his words, not Lily's, "some grade-A-BANGING." 

She laughs at his remarks, tying her hair up into a bun, already finished with her shower. "You need to get clean too, I'm not getting into bed with you all sweaty." She comments, sliding on some bright red shorts, the one she knows he likes so much. Richie groans, "fine." getting up and passing her to get to the bathroom, pressing a soft kiss to her temple as he does. 

Getting into the shower, he can hear Lily on the other side of the curtain probably brushing her teeth and flossing for the second time that night, like always. 

The warm water runs down his body, soaking his hair, and as he grabs for the shampoo, Lily starts talking, which surprises him. 

"So, Richie, hun. I was wondering. Have you ever thought about maybe, spicing up things. Like you know..?" She pauses, then laughs at herself, "in the bedroom." 

Richie can't help the grin pulling at his lips, allowing it because he knows she can't see him on the other side of the shower curtains. "Do you mean I should bring hot sauce the next time we baaaang?" 

He can almost hear her cringe, he knows well enough she hates that terminology to be used for their sex life. "You know what I mean Rich." She deadpans, and Richie chuckles. 

"So like what? Do you want to go out and buy some handcuffs or something?" He tries, being a willing participant to whatever she may suggest. 

"Well... no I was thinking about. More of... a threesome?" She offers, and Richie pulls aside the curtain, to stare at her wide eyed and shocked. He looks at her, hair dripping in his face, trying to figure out if she is joking or not. She just gives him a supportive smile, and he stares at her like she's grown a second head. 

"A threesome? Really?" He asks, the water still hitting the shower tiles, like a white noise in the background. 

"Yeah. A threesome." She supplies, and there is a brief silence, Richie likes to think of it, as his, 'thinking' period. 

A threesome? Like.. like with another person? Almost immediately thousands of scenarios rushed through his brain. Was this because Richie wasn't enough in bed? Was it because she was bored, or that she couldn't be pleased, or was it because— "it's up to you of course." She mumbles in that sweet tone of hers, and Richie is pulled from his thoughts. He knows they will probably talk over the details later in bed, but she just needs to know his initial reaction, like she always does. 

He scans her eyes, and she gives him this dreamy, caring look that almost makes him melt. 

"Okay." He agrees, and she grins at him, moving closer to the edge of the shower to plant a sweet kiss on his lips. It felt more like a promise, one he kind of wish he didn't make.  
——————————

This is the fourth night in a row that another show was a bust. People find him funny, they really do, but not enough to draw in a large crowd. Richie stands on the tiny stage, cheap lights blaring down at him, when the last of the customers leave the bar for the night. He didn't even get to finish his set. He grips the microphone and sighs, watching them leave with apologetic looks on their faces. Friday's were supposed to be the best nights for this. But, maybe it really was Richie. 

The bartender Sarah slides him a whiskey when he walks up to the bar, and he gladly takes it. "Well I'm sure you'll get somewhere someday you know. You're really good. Just, you need new material, interesting material." She comment pressing her cheek into her hand. Richie rolls his eyes and sips the bitter drink. "Yeah, and what interesting things happen to me?" He grumbles, and Sarah laughs slightly. 

"What about the threesome tonight." 

Right. He forgot he told her about that. And. He forgot that was happening. 

Oh fuck the threesome. 

Two chicks are better then one right? It's been a week since Lily's and his conversation in the bathroom, and the time has come. It was something that kept pestering the back of his mind the entire time. It would sneak up on him with a baseball bat and beat him to a pulp. So it was pleasant of course. The weight of it all doesn't hit him fully though, until he gets home early that Friday, the bar closing early for maintenance. But really he knew it was Sarah trying to give him some slack. 

He tries to reason with himself again, pressing his key into the front door. What guy in his twenties doesn't love the idea of a threesome right? Sure, he's never had sex with anyone else, ever, he may have lost his virginity to Lily, and she doesn't really know that. But, he can handle another girl right? Or maybe, it'll be Lily and her the entire time? Suddenly he cringes at the thought, a ping of jealousy filling his chest. Maybe it's not too late to change his mind? 

He prepares himself, and the speech he will give the two girls, saying he can't go through with it, explaining why, and why it isn't their faults, let them down easy you know? He confidently rehearses the speech but the words die in the back of his throat when he turns the corner to the living room. 

Oh god. 

It's a dude. 

A hot dude. One that's too hot. Jealousy swirls in Richie's gut, as he looks back and forth between the blonde haired man and Lily on the couch waiting for him. The guy, sits on the other side of the sofa, the sofa that was Lily's (when they moved in together, she had a sofa he had a mattress. The perfect match.) The blonde smiles up at Richie, giving him this look that almost makes Richie melt. Oh. Oh. 

He wants to get upset, to fight, get angry, but he can't stop staring at the guy. Why? Richie wants to deny the instant attraction. But Richie knows. Deep down, he does, in the back of his head he knows what this means. The guy, stares up at Richie in such a way that it makes Richie understand. He's not here to sleep with Lily. He's here to sleep with Richie. 

He doesn't really know how to process that information, or why that information doesn't scare him as much as he hoped it would. 

Finally Lily speaks, "This is Connor, he's a friend of mine from gym." Right, she had mentioned her friend was from yoga class, "He's.. gay." She stays blatantly, like it was obvious information to lay out on the table. A table that was now covered in three things. The fact that Lily brought another man to their threesome, the fact that- that said man was gay, and the unfinished puzzle of Richie's heterosexuality. 

Richie almost chokes on literally nothing. What does she mean when she says it like that? HE's GAY. Did she—Did she think Richie was— "uhhh." Richie feels like he might melt into the carpet below him, and turn into a mush, and get absorbed into the earth. Seems like a peaceful way to go, was sure better then this interaction. Lily, noticing his blatant discomfort gets up from the sofa, and moves across the room to kiss Richie on the cheek, "babe-" she begins, as he stiffens slightly, "it's okay, it's just to test things out. I notice, things about you, sometimes when we are in public, and. I just need to know for myself. I'll be with you during it all, you know." 

Richie doesn't even hear anything she says because his brain is running at a million miles per minute. His head is banging pots and pans. 'MAYDAY MAYDAY. FAGGOT ALERT.'

"What do you mean you notice things?" His voice breaks in the middle of the sentence, "What things? The last time I checked I was straight." Richie says stern, the bubbling in his stomach now a stark contrast from jealousy, to embarrassment. 

'Maybe you should check again.' The voice coo's in his head, making him look back at Connor on the couch, pouty lips, and concern look pointed towards Richie himself. 

And what does Lily mean, it's a test? Why did she need to know..? Know what? "Lily, why are you testing me? I'm not just some, some— thing to test on, this is something we have to talk about before you—" Richie makes a wild gesture towards Connor, his brain moving slow at stumbling out a amalgamation of words to express his exasperation. 

Lily seems shocked, a frown plastered on her lips; "Richie— I didn't. Think-" 

"Yeah well obviously you didn't. You can't just- you should have told me." Richie seems to get more and more worked up each moment, but then his eyes flick to Connor, resting on the soft curve of his jaw, and the roses tint of his lips. Unfortunately, looking at the worried man his boiling anger dies down. Connor gives Richie this, understanding, apologetic look. And something... something about him is so familiar. 

Maybe that's what draws Richie to him. 

Still, Richie doesn't want to give up on the fight. Because the moment he does, the moment he gives in to the truth. 

Truth. About him. 

There would be no turning around. 

"I'm not gay Lily—" he turns to Connor quickly, "no offense." 

"Non taken." Connor speaks, and Richies knees weaken slightly at the sound of his voice. Fuck, stay on topic. Right. Not, gay. Or Bi— or whatever it was. 

"Richie I didn't mean to–" Lily tries again, looking guilty, "I just thought maybe; when I mentioned a threesome I thought you knew-" 

Richie pauses, and looks to her thinking over her words, oh. He guesses she didn't mention that the threesome WOULD be with a girl either.. he just assumed. And she just assumed Richie thought the opposite. They both assumed wrong. 

"Oh." Richie mumbles, fidgeting slightly, carding a hand through his hair. 

Their both at fault for having horrible communication skills. Or at least with each other. Richie and Lily were never good at speaking to each other. Sure, sex was good, having someone to come home to was comforting, someone who supports you and laughs at your jokes. But they never really connected any further then that. But Richie supposes that's a unrealistic expectation when it came to relationships. They like each other. Love is a fairytale. 

And in today's episode of Richie's not-fairytale life, there is a blonde twink propped up on his couch. Well. This is definitely new. But as Richie looks up at Lily, and she looks back at him. Their conversion has come to a close. 

Then Connor speaks.. 

"Can I talk to Richie alone?" He asks Lily, and she looks to Richie for approval. Well he isn't rude, after all, he's sure Connor needs a explanation. He did, come here expecting to get laid, not watch a couple fight. Richie prepares himself with what he thinks will be a brief conversation. He's always wrong though. Get used to it bud.

When Lily leaves the room, Richie sits next to Connor on the couch, albeit, a little too close. 

"You know. When I was younger. I was pretty closeted." Connor starts, and Richie seems confused automatically. Connor laughs slightly when he notices "and rests a hand on Richie's, it's comforting. "Not saying you were. But.." 

Connor presses his hand through the hair on the nape of his neck, it makes Richie shiver. "As a kid i dealt with a lot of internalized homophobia. And, I remember. Kinda, it's pretty fuzzy." This peaks Richies attention, "There was this kid who kinda looked like you. Well kinda. Fuck, he was so brave. He made the first move and everything. And I shut down, and fucked it up. My cousin came in, almost beat the kid up." Richie notices the cringe on Connor's face, the guilt. Well it definitely wasn't Richie. He was never brave.

"Hey you were just a kid." Richie tries to sooth. And Connor laughs again, "yeah. I was. But so was he." 

And they sit. For a moment, allowing the information to ruminate a bit. 

"Also I think you're kinda hot." Connor confesses. 

Richie laughs, gripping his stomach, throwing his head back. "Well thank you. Back at ya." 

Connor turns to him with a playful smile on his lips. "Really?" 

Richie doesn't register what he said until that moment. 

Maybe Richie isn't as opposed to the idea of a guy as he thought. He was more scared as to why he wasn't opposed to it in the first place, but that's life isn't it? 

There's always a new surprise around the corner. 

"Yeah. Really."

So. After a hour or so, of ridged explanations, apologies, and finally— communication. Richie gives in, he really does, because god he's only human, and the way Connor stares at him like he is a meal platter fucks him up in ways he didn't know he could be. 

Their bedroom, is dim, just like how Richie likes it, enough to see what you were doing, but not bright enough to really focus on his body. 

Richie was a very insecure bitch. 

Richie pushes his glasses up to the bridge of his nose as he walks into the room, he doesn't know what to do at first, but he supposes that's how he always stumbled through life. There's this quick rush of adrenaline that zips up his spine when Connor finally walks into their bedroom. Like, him walking through that door frame made it real, actually real. Wow, this was happening, this was actually going to happen. 

Then there's this moment, when Connor walks into Richie's space, kind of like the calm before the storm. Lily sits on the bed, and Richie stands stiffly at the end of the mattress. 

He can feel it already, the overthinking. But Connor doesn't give Richie much time to freak out because he presses forward and kisses Richie. And oh. Wow. Okay. Fuck. Guys are pretty great too. Connor grips the side of Richie's headband tilts it, pushing in his tongue to the back of his mouth, causing Richie to jump at the sudden intruder. Well it seems like it's kinda too late to say no homo.

'You think?' The asshole of a voice pesters Richie brain again, and— 'could you shut the fuck up for once, and let me enjoy something?' 

And then the voice is gone. Just like that, and suddenly Richie finds that he enjoys this, much more now. 

Connor presses in between Richies legs once they get onto the bed, they makeout hot and heavy and fuck, this was good. Really fucking good. 

It moves real quickly, them getting undressed, Lily coming in every once in a while to kiss Richie as well, touch him and give him encouragement. But their both surprised when he doesn't need it. No this isn't scary at all. Kissing, touching, pressing against a man doesn't feel as foreign as Richie thought it might. 

Well it didn't until— "so how do you want to do this? Top or bottom?" Connor asks sweetly, and Richie stares at him, Connor was already naked, Richie almost fully besides his boxers. Connor hovers about Richie, and—... top or bottom..? 

"Like bunk beds?" Richie asks, trying to add a little humor, but both Lily and Connor just stare at him. 

"Right- right of course, I know what top or bottom means. I'm just— okay I just. Uh." Richie stares at the ceiling, feeling his cheeks warm with embarrassment. 

Does it hurt a guy to put a penis inside him? That seems like the notion. Somehow, Connor seems to read Richie's mind. He smiles, "it doesn't hurt you know. It actually feels really good. I don't mind, really." 

Richie looks back up at Connor, feeling more vulnerable then he ever has ever. Lily grabs Richie's hand in that moment, and gives it a supportive squeeze, and Richie sucks in a breath sharply. He knows what he wants. Even if it's hard to admit. 

"Promise it doesn't hurt?" 

"It doesn't. As long as you do it right. Trust me."

Richie, like he always is, is hesitant but staring into Connor's eyes, so kind and self-effacing, Richie believes him. 

"Oh, and here have this." Connor gives Richie, some tiny bottle. 

"Lube?" 

"No, but yes we will need lube. That is." He points are the bottle in Richies hand, "called poppers." 

It's weird at first. Maybe not weird actually.. just. Different. 

He still felt like lips. He still felt like skin. And arms, and legs. Smooth, soft, and rough in some places. Just another warm body to press against. There wasn't much of a difference between Connor, and Lily. Just a few parts here and there. But they were both human. 

Just warmth, and passion. 

They went slow. As slow as humanly possible, because Richie was always a wimp. They were letting Richie ease into it, being understanding, and that meant the world to him. 

Something about Connor was so familiar, and because of that Richie couldn't get enough of him, kissing, touching. 

And when Richie came for the first time with a man inside him. Well, that was definitely a turning point in his life because. "Shit. I might be bi." Slipped his lips once they all settled into bed. 

And that's how, Richie, not so elegantly got the fresh new material he needed for his next open mic show. 

The crowd, a little bigger this time, it was date night after all, laugh at his jokes. They cheer and clap and actually enjoy what he says. 

"So, I asked. Like bunkbeds?" The people all laugh, hooting and hollering, and Richie can see Sarah laughing by the bar as well. 

"So yeah. That's the night I found out I was bi, and got fucked for the first time. Pretty graphic I know; but at least you weren't the ones who had to deal with two cases of 'but I want to cuuuddlle' while still high off poppers." he makes a whiney voice and it hits. For the first time, in, well forever, every single one of Richie's jokes hits. He can't help but feel proud, feel happy and hopeful. Maybe, maybe life was good after all. 

Well that is, until he got home that night, and found Lily in bed with some other guy. 

"I thought the threesome meant we were in a open relationship?" She tries, scrambling into a robe as Richie packs away more and more of his things into his suitcase. "Thought." He seethes, there that word again. Their lack of communication was always going to be their downfall. 

"You cheated on me." 

"No I didn't: I just didn't know." Lily tries, and Richie would have forgave. He really would have. If Lily didn't slip up. 

"We've been sleeping together for a year now, I promise I don't have feelings for him." 

"A year?" Richie seems shocked. And so did she. Whoops, she didn't mean to let that out. A year is well before the threesome a week ago. 

"Fuck off Lily" he seers, throwing the last of his shit into his bags. 

He grabs the door knob, swinging it open, and Lily grabs his arm, pleading. "What about your bed?" She asks, and Richie pulls his arm feee from her grasps. "Keep it." 

He slams the door behind him.  
________________

Well that was sure a bump in the road, Richie has to stay at a motel for the time being, but that's doesn't matter much when he gets a phone call. 

"Yes, we want to sign you to our label, get you on some bigger shows. My assistant attending your show, and said it was pretty amazing. I want you to do that one for us." 

"Oh, my god, yes of course absolutely." Richie clings to the phone cord of the crappy motel telephone. 

"Okay great! We will have a meeting this week, and hopefully by the end of this week, have a contract ready and signed Mr. Tozier. Glad to do business with you." 

Richie feels his heart soar. Oh my god. He was actually getting somewhere, this was it, his big break, all thanks to his newest set. 

"Oh and one more thing." Mr. Stevensons says, and Richie answers quickly, "yes of course, anything." 

"Rewrite a few things in your set." He begins, "for starters. Change the part about the guy you slept with, to a female. We have a image to uphold." 

Oh. 

"Okay." Richie gives in. 

"Great. See you soon."  
_______________

"And sign there. Great. It's been a pleasure," one of the business men says, shaking Richies hand after having him sign the contract. They sit in a huge office room, a large oval table splayed out in the middle. Just Richie, this man, who would be a financial backer, Mr. Stevenson's, and his assistant, Claudia. 

"Well. We are super happy to see your re-write, and we also wanted you to work with some other writers, to maybe give you some more material for the show. Seeing how it will be a hour long." Claudia instructs, and right. No longer will Richie be doing dive in bar open mic nights. Now he will be doing actual shows. But, of course, he would just be the opener— to actual real famous comedians. Still, of course, that's a better shot then what most other people get out here in LA.

Though, they could have just asked Richie to write more stuff himself, rather then set him up with a team of ghost writers who don't understand his humor. But, patience Richie. He's sure once he makes it big, he will no longer need someone else to write his jokes. 

"Oh. And you need a rebranding. A makeover." the backer insists. And Richie already knows he cannot say no to that, the guy, literally pays for Richie to have this opportunity. "Yes of course." 

And that's how, the Richie Tozier, went from Trashmouth slob, to, prime LA hot stuff. No more glasses, contact lenses, and his messy hair? Cut short and BLEACHED blonde. 

God he doesn't recognize himself when he looks in the mirror. But that's show biz for ya huh? Got to change, become who they want you to be, before you can get anywhere. 

The way the company works, is actually a lot more complicated then he first thought. They aren't the ones who sign him, they aren't a label, but rather a management, that's gets you signed to a label. Far more complicated then Richie can seem to understand. By putting Richie on shows, before famous comedians, he will at some point get noticed. 

The money they invest into him, they expect to make back at least double, so they really put their neck out on the line for him. 

When he gets signed, the label will give him a sum of money to help out with finding gigs, and maybe making a CD. But 90% of that money he will gets, will automatically go back to management, and whatever is left needs to be used to pay back his backer. 

So really Richie will be left with 2% of the money he makes to try and get what he needs. Jesus Christ these dudes a crooks. 

But he, as always doesn't understand that. For him. He needs the break, no matter how much of his real earning will be taken from him under his nose. 

It takes 6 months. 6 long fucking months of being over worked. Richie would do shows, three to four times a day if he was lucky, repeating the same jokes he didn't write. He rarely slept, could barely afford to eat with having to pay for the motel. And when everything seemed lost, He gets signed with a label. 

ACU records. They seem sketchy, even his management told him that, but he was so desperate for change, he felt like he was on a forever torturous loop of ground hog day, that he gave in. He was able to pay his management back, and finally got a actual manager. Who of course wanted 20% of his profit. And of course Richie agreed. 

And for ACU records. Well they really are one hell of a evil label. 2 years, yeah you heard that right. 2 years, they took 72% of all his income, without him being much the riser. Meaning. Richie was still, struggling to eat, find a place, do fucking anything. 

But at least...

He had his own show. 

And the crowd, would, cheer for him. Hundreds of people almost every night. "Thank you everyone! My names Richie Tozier and I hope you have a great night!" Everyone would stand up on their feet and yell his name, and every night Richie would float home on cloud nine. Moments like those. God they made it worth it. 

And he was successful, really ducking successful. So much so, he got noticed. 

"What!?" Richie said to Ron his manager, who seemed to be real smug about the news. "Yes, SNL, contacted me. They want you Rich. You could leave ACU now that your contract is up." 

SNL. Wow. The dream. But at the same time, "but I like stand up comedy?" He tells Ron, and Ron seems impatient when Richie doesn't understand the big picture, "yes, and you can still do that after SNL. Imagine, once you become a famous TV comedian? The amount of labels who will be barking up your tree? You'll be able to do shows for thousands." 

Thousands. Well. Richie liked the sound of that. 

So at 24, Richie Tozier leaves ACU records, moves across country to NewYork and joins the cast of SNL. He is able to finally wear his glasses again, and grow out his natural hair. And god, is he living the dream.

"And you're watching Saturday Night Live!" Richie yells with his co-host, and the crowd cheers. Millions of people every Saturday night watch him on TV. Besides the skits they film during the week, it was a pretty easy job to maintain. He loved what he did, he got to really test out all his different impressions and accents. Got to do obscene and weird and silly humor all the time. 

He is pretty sure he has hit the peak when it came to finding self happiness. But. 

"Yeah. Weird nightmares about clowns," he explains to his therapist, and she nods. The one thing that never changed during all these years, was Richie's therapist. Even though he had more money now, he felt too attached to leave her. So they do online calls. But it was for the better. He didn't feel like re-explaining all of this to someone new. 

"I'm pretty lonely all the time too. I mean, yeah, I have a great career, I couldn't be happier but—"

"You don't have as great a home life?" She suggests, and she's right. Like always. 

"And every time I have these clown nightmares. I feel even more lonely, scared. And when I wake up, for some reason the feeling makes me think about my childhood. But, I just— I still can't remember." 

Ms. Ryan, gives him a understanding look through his computer, "Well, it might be repressed memories, maybe, you can remember more if you think about, the positive memories that you do remember from Derry. If there even is any." 

Well. 

There was one. 

It was of his childhood friend Will? William, and his little brother. George? Georgie. They went to a corn maze, for Halloween, and dressed up as scare crows. William had to go to the bathroom so Richie held Georgie's hand, waiting.

"Richie it's cold." Georgie frowns, wrapping his arms around himself. Richie pushed his coke bottle glasses further up his nose, looking up at the now night sky. It was getting cold. Richie gave Georgie his gloves, he remembers how thankful Georgie looked and while they waited, they walked around the maze. It was just a lot of the same, a large field of corn, and more and more corn everywhere you turned. But, somehow, amongst the maze, Georgie ended up getting lost, and Richie needs to find him before William- "oh! No, wait I think I called him like, Billy or Bill." Richie tells her, and watches as she writes it down in her notes. "Alright. Continue." She offers, and right. 

It didn't take very long, couldn't have been more then a few minutes when he finds Georgie, but, it was long enough to cause the kid to freak out. He was crying, bawled up in the corner of the corn maze and Richie remembers feeling genuinely bad. Richie had to go full ADHD and forget he was watching him. So, he wrapped Georgie in his arms and hugged him tight, and promised to protect him, no matter what. And for the first time ever he felt the need to protect someone, other then himself. 

It was a struggle, but he managed to put Georgie on his shoulders, and used Georgie's y'all advantage to get them out of the maze. Bill had just came back before he could know what happened, and Richie got Georgie some cotton candy with the last of his allowance. He let Georgie stay on his shoulders for the rest of the night. It made him think about what it would have been like, to not be a single child, but then again he wouldn't want another kid to have to deal with his parents. 

It almost took the whole night, but be won Georgie a stuffed animal, and Georgie of course gets to name it. "Pepper!!" He cheers and Richie snorts, "why Pepper?" He questions, while Bill holds the bear for his brother. 

"Because peppers are sweet right?"

Richie didn't have the heart to correct him. 

"And now when I think about him, there's this deep sadness that I get. Like, like something might of happened to him?" 

"Maybe that's the guilt you felt for losing him in the maze?" Ms. Ryan tries, and Richie guesses that must be it. He doesn't remember any other reason why he'd feel that way. 

"Well. Your time is up Mr. Tozier, see you again same time next week?" 

"Yeah. That will be good." 

"Oh. And remember." Ms. Ryan begins, writing down his next appointment, "Loneliness, while isolating, and loud, it is still time spent, with the world." She sends him the appointment via Email while he stares at the computer screen. 

Richie has no fucking clue what that means.  
__________________

Richie leaves SNL, and it's actually pretty sad. They wrap up his last show, and All of his coworkers hug him and even some cry, bidding him goodbye. But it was better this was anyway. He's 25 now, and he needs to continue on his career path. 

But as he stands, at another private show full of corporate shrills, he can't help but think he kind of went backwards career wise.

Now he does comedy shows, ones that get pretty big, almost sold out a few theaters. Again he still doesn't write much of his material, but at least it pays a heavy amount. 

But the downside? Well, with only his manager on his side, he doesn't have a booking agency, and he needs more backers, no matter how much he makes, it's expensive renting theaters for shows. He obviously has the money he saved from SNL, and the few Comedy shows that made a good profit, but that mainly pays for his apartment and general necessities. And he needs a little more help if he wants to get a big showing to happen. 

So here he was, doing another private show, which he did for free by the way, for a big corporate party of rich folk. Hopefully he will get a backer. God you can only hope. He hates these, drab parties. Everyone stares at him like a fool. Which, fair. He is a comedian. On the bright side though, he gets to write all his own jokes for these parties. That's what he bargained out with his manager. Because the last thing Richie wanted to do, was not have fun. And boy oh boy, the way rich people reacted to Richies humor was priceless. 

And this is a investment he is willing to take. Get a backer? Then more shows and he starts touring. So suck it up Tozier, and tell the damn jokes.

Everyone walks around in their suits, eating the tiny food laid out by the catering. Richie gets up on the small stage set up in the center of the room, waiting for the microphone to finish with sound check. 

Now it's his time to shine. 

"America is, like one of the best countries right?" He smiles out at the sea of people, "Then why is it so many people here are always so pissed? I think it's not the country and more the people you know." He cocks his hip slightly, "No one gets along because they either think, one way or the other. No changing that— Well this show is a celebration of the Americans that I like. Aka, The funny ones." 

Only a few people stop and watch, but that's all that matters. Once someone starts paying attention, the crowd always follows along. 

"First off, everyone in the west coast needs to chill the fuck out. I grew up in maine, and let me tell you, not too far from NewYork. The first time I went to the big apple, I got yelled at by four homeless people who were either eating rats, or some type of mutated bagel. I still cannot tell you, to this day." There's a few chuckles. "People in new York will just yell at you, because they can, like you could literally be 20 feet away from someone, and they will take it upon themselves to cross the street just to say, "HEY! IM WALKING HERE." There seems to be a few people amongst the crowd who have had the same experience here in NewYork, because some of them laugh. 

"Like NO, you were NOT. I was actually walking here first, you just decided for some reason that you wanted to be a dick today."

"But I do love the passion that comes from the west coast. Everyone is so strongly opinionated, like North Carolina, "FUCK THE GAYS."—" Richie still forgets sometimes he hasn't publicly come out yet, "Or Atlanta Georgia, which is either the breeding ground for gangs or grunge pop bands. Virginia, where Washington DC is, with the White House, and a bunch of statues and shit just sit there. Everything is so damn old, but loud at the same time. I don't even want to talk about the White House, so let me move on to—Alabama, which you know. Incest." Someone actually snorts, though a few old people seem put off by Richie's crassness, the ones who do laugh make it worth it all, "But then that brings me to my favorite state of all. And not even on the west coast. Just my favorite state, period. Florida." 

Richie peers down at the crowd, leaning back slightly, "They are so absolutely insane, and crazy, that it's actually their BRAND. Like it's normal to hear, "oh a Florida man just wrestled a Crocobear."

"What's a croco bear you might ask? Well it's where a bear wears a crocodile as a hat, and also uses a chainsaw to fight its enemies. Super normal down there. Well apparently a Florida man, who had just ingested unknown amounts of heroin, fought the crocobear, with nothing but his fists, and a stick. In Parana infested water. And WHEN he won, he drank some Mountain Dew laced with fucking cyanide." 

There's this one guy, at the back of the crowd who laughs so hard he almost drops his drink. Brown hair, bright eyes, silly smile. Richie reminds himself to approach the guy later. 

"And when you hear these stories you don't go, "WHAT? There is no possible way." Because the moment you hear 'Florida.' All laws of this reality goes out the window." 

"East coast though? Well LA, is a melting pot of really chill people. From hippies, and Mormons, to suburban gay white couples. The only downside is the earthquakes, and that the state might snap off into the ocean one day.  
California is just like, whatever dude! We are as far away from the British as possible! Let's do anything! Smoke weed, make movies, fucking party until you dieeee. That's why I moved out to California, no one gives a shit. They just wanna have fun, and then die. And I aspire for that to be how I die one day. That. Or die like a Florida man." 

Once he finishes his set, the crowd half pity claps and half cheers. This one went pretty well. Besides for the few boo's from drunk party goers. Who knew- even the rich needed to get smashed sometimes. 

Though, when Richie walks off the stage, he doesn't stop to get a drink like always. No, he has his eyes set on the prize. He walks to the back of the party, the table set with hundreds of little appetizers. And then he find him, the very cute guy in a suit, drink luckily not spilled. He notices Richie almost right away, and tries not to smile, but fails. Fuck that's cute. 

"You like the show?" Richie asks, and the guy cocks his head to the side, "Maybe. What's it to you?" He teases, and Richie is instantly intrigued. 

"I don't know you just seemed like you were enjoying yourself." Richie grins, resting his hand on his own hip. The guy takes a sip of his drink, "Was I now? Hmm. I don't seem to remember that, but I'll take your word." He bites back, and wow he's fierce. Makes Richie want to literally bite his lip.

"I'm Richie." He throws out a fishing line. The guy cocks a eyebrow, "I'm Eddie." Eddie says, taking the bait. 

Something about that name is familiar. Actually. Something about the guy in general is familiar. He just doesn't remember how. 

"Well Richie. I must go now." He points towards, who Richie assumes are his coworkers, "duty calls." 

And when Eddie leaves, Richie can't help but watch because god damn. That's one sexy man. And boy oh boy, Richie sure as hell wanted to come home with him tonight. 

He keeps staring at Eddie through out the night, he realized he might be kinda creepy for it, but shit something about him. It's just. Something about him is so familiar. But his stalking comes to a end when he can tell Eddie notices. And like a little angry goblin, strides over, finally approaching Richie seemingly pissed off, which Richie can't blame him for, "What do you want?" 

"World peace." Richie's answers curt, sipping on his martini. 

"No, from me you asshat." 

Richie's heart flutters. 

"I don't know. What do you offer?" He winks, and Eddie immediately blushes. Ooooh. Richie likes that. The guy doesn’t seem to back down though, no matter the embarrassment, he tightens his fists and glares up at Richie. 

"I don't- I— I don't offer anything. Why were you staring at me?" Eddie asks frustrated, and Richie stares down at his neatly ironed tie. "I don't know. Why were you staring back?" Richie counters, and Eddie seems surprised by this. 

"I-" 

"You seem familiar to me that's all. Have we met before?" Richie cuts in, setting down his drink. He wants to move this forward. Cause while the teasing was fun, he needed to know if he could take this further. 

Eddie fidgets, shifting in place, "I don't. I don't think so. But. Yeah you do seem familiar as well.." he admits. 

"Well." Richie begins, moving to the side so Eddie can move closer to the bar. He does. Good. 

"I grew up in Derry." He offers, and Eddie's eyes light up. "I did too." He says, and wow, what a small world. 

"No that can't be, you're too well put together? What kind of person from Derry becomes a business man." Richie prods, moving closer to take up Eddie's air. He notices the man's breath hitch, and his pupil dilate. Exciting development. 

"Well, what kind of person from Derry becomes a famous comedian on SNL?" Eddie counters, taking Richie's drink from off the bar and taking a swig. Fuck. He has no idea what he is doing to Richie right now. His lips are this dark pink, and his eyes won't leave Richie's as they speak, and he's... so. So. Close to Richie, too close for a straight guy.

"Oh so you do know me?" Richie asks smug, and Eddie blushes again, coughing slightly to clear his throat. "Kinda, I've seen you on TV." 

Richie presses closer, almost his entire leg between Eddie's and Eddie presses back. Oh yeah, Richie is totally getting laid tonight. 

"You watch TV often?" He asks, resting his hand on Eddie's hip, and he can tell Eddie shivers at the touch. "No actually Myra—.." Eddie pauses, suddenly pulling away, "oh shit. Yeah. Myra." He says panicked, and Richie quickly moves to comfort him, "hey, yo, woah, didn't mean to scare you off." He tries but Eddie just shakes his head. "No it's not you, it's just— I'm engaged." 

Oh. 

He's engaged. and Richie guesses to this Myra person. Well then. 

Richie wants to change that real quickly.

“Oh. Wow shit! Okay sorry man. I guess I read the situation wrong.” Richie tries, though he’s pretty sure he didn’t, Eddie was very much into him. But that can’t go any further if it means Eddie has to cheat on someone. No Richie needs this ball of fire to himself. He just needs a excuse to get to know him more. 

“Did you go to Derry HighSchool?” Richie asks, changing the subject, and Eddie laughs, “Uh duh? That was the only HighSchool in the whole town? Idiot.” Eddie obviously teases, and Richie’s chest fills with this weird feeling, like puddy, but it’s expanding, and flopping all around his insides like a fish out of water. His laughs, his smile, the way he’s mean to Richie. Something, and EVERYTHING about it just feels so damn right. 

“Well, I still have my yearbook. Maybe I can check and see if you signed it?” He suggests, keeping a good distance between them, but still close enough for the feeling of him to linger. Eddie bites his lips, and FUUUuuck. 

“Oh, maybe. Though I don’t think I had many friends back in high school.” 

“Well there’s only one way to find out right?” Richie offers, and Eddie seems to think it over, not fully convinced. He swirls Richie’s drink with his straw, weighting the options over in his head. Obviously he wants to spend time with Richie, but that might lead to some issues for his engagement in the future. “I don’t kno—“ he stops, and stares down at Richies wrist. 

“What’s that?” He asks, grabbing Richie’s arm without permission, though he doesn’t really mind. 

“Oh it’s a tattoo.” Richie answers. 

“I know what a tattoo is dumb ass, I’m asking, what does it mean?” 

Richie looks at it too, ‘Lucky Seven.’ He wish he knew the answer. He really did. But as he thinks of over, Eddie’s grip tightens on his arm, and a word pops into Richie’s head. 

“Friendship.” 

Eddie stares at him, surprised. Then he lets out this light airy laugh, and grins. 

“Here. I’ll give you my number. Tell me if you find my name in that book of yours.” Eddie whispered, and Richie grins back. 

“Duly noted.”


	2. Well We Meet Again

There he was, haystack. The sweetest most gentle soul Richie was lucky enough to know. He currently was trying to beat Bill at paper-foot-ball, and was losing at a harsh eight to two. 

Behind them, was Stan, trying to coax Eddie into helping him with making the pancakes. 

And Richie sat happily with Bev and Mike, laying on the couch, eating popcorn and watching the boys make a mess. 

Richie kept his eyes glued onto Eddie, felt his chest swirl with excitement when Eddie would laugh, or smile. Anything, anything, Richie would give anything, to make sure that's all Eddie would have to feel. Happy. 

It was, so natural, and safe and fun—

"Whatcha up to Richie?" A voice with the tone of a sneer drum pierces through the air, the room fell pitch black, it became a never ending void of darkness, of which he was engulfed. Suddenly Richie was alone. But he wasn't. All his friends, were in front of him, lined up side by side, staring at him with soulless eyes. 

"What the fuck!?" Richie screeched, and panted, scrambling in the darkness trying to grasp reality. It all felt so empty, and his ears popped from the pressure, they rung so loud he felt like vomiting. 

"Poor poor Richie Tozier. Pathetic boy." The voice snarled and a sickly beast crawled up, from behind his friends, ripping off Eddie's head, blood gushed out from his neck, and Richie screamed out. "No!" Or at least he tried. His voice couldn't work over the broken sob that ripped from his chest. 

"You're pathetic, Richie, you know that? Greedy, greedy humans, so infected by greed. You want touch, so desperately don't you? Oh but it's filthy, dirty touch you want. You want men don't you?" It hissed, and Richie struggled to keep the screaming tears from dripping onto his shirt. 

The creature eyed Richie, a huge grin stretching over its pale disfigured face, it licked it's lips and teeth the size of knife blades bared behind it's smile. It grabbed Stan and bit him in half, throwing the bottom half of Stan's corps at Richie. 

"You've been here for a while now haven't you Richie?" It laughed, high strung and spiteful. 

"Wake up." "Wake up." "Wake up." The voice rang around the room in a dizzying spiral. 

"Better wake up before you forget how to." 

"OH FUCK—" Richie shot up from his bed, sweat lining his body, soaking the sheets. His back was covered in the sweat, and his throat felt tight. He struggled to breath, trying to process the nightmare. 

For a second, he remembers some of the details, but they fade away the longer he is awake. He pants, feeling his hands shake. Fuck, he hated these nights. Waking up in a cold sweat, heart racing millions of miles an hour. Only to loose the grasp of what the nightmare had even been about once he awoke. 

But, there was this, weird voice in the back of his head reminding him. Eddie Kaspbrak. 

Right. The guy from the party. Richie, will definitely work on that first.   
_____________

Richie learned a few things, while he got older. 

People, can make or break you. They can bring so much happiness and relief to your life, or be the source of your problems. For a while, that person was Lily. She meant everything to him. And after she cheated, it meant everything he ever thought of was drenched in the memory of her betrayal. For a few months Richie was pretty fucked up over it. But he learned to move on over the years. 

Each experience we learn from, makes us stronger. Each person who passes us in life, is like a ripple in our lake. But as you grow older and the years grow shorter, we learn our lake is actually an ocean, and that the waves we make ourselves, are stronger then the ripples left behind by others. 

So why is it, Eddie seems to be such a fucking hurricane in the sea of Richie's life. 

"Thanks ma." Richie mumbles into the phone, trying to get the burnt pancake off his skillet top. Fuck, ruined another one. He puts the tea kettle on the back burner, not for tea, but for hot water, he needed to clean out his bongs later. 

He presses the phone between his shoulder and his ear, trying to scrape off the charred batter from his new, supposedly non-stick pan. He has his cigarette balancing between his lips, trying to hold it between his teeth and talk at the same time. What can he say, he's the disaster kind of multitasking.

Another month, another check Richie's mother sends. He will give that to her, it's been years and she hasn't missed a single payment, no matter how successful he gets, she still insists on giving him 'a little extra spending money.' 

"I want you to go shopping honey." She suggests again, as Richie finally flips a semi-decent pancake. "Get something nice, if you are meeting an old friend—" 

"Mom I'm pretty positive we never knew each other back then. I just used it as a excuse to get his number." He admits, and he can almost hear his mother roll her eyes. 

"Even so, there's a chance. I don't have much of a memory of when you were a kid. I guess I was working so much, but I knew you did have a few friends." She offers, and Richie instinctively looks down at his wrist. Right. 

"So the yearbook should be here when?" He asks, placing his plate of late breakfast on his folding dining table. The apartment wasn't small. Definitely better then any place he's ever lived in, even as a kid. There was a pool the apartment tenants could share downstairs, and a gym. Richie lived in a one room, but there was still enough room for all his pointless posters, comic books, and guitars. What can he say? Still a kid at heart. He'd go to the thrift store frequently, which meant he had a cool collection of vinyls, skate boards, and a random statue of a bear holding a jar of gum in the corner of the room. The fake plant his manager gave him as a house warming gift, and a pretty decent TV. But his pride and joy. He got a classic PAC MAN arcade unit, off of some dude at a garage sell, for 60 bucks. 

Something about the big hunk of metal in the middle of his living room, made him feel so happy. And it even worked too. He kept quarters next to the joy sticks so he could play whenever he felt like it. 

"Well I sent it over three days ago, so maybe today hun." Right. Three days ago Richie met Eddie, and ever since then, all he could fucking think about was that man. 

Eddie.. Eddie Eddie— spaghetti?

The tea kettle screams, it cracks through the room like a glass shattering shriek and Richie jumps, being taken out of his thoughts, moving to turn off the heat. 

"Cool. Thanks ma." Richie says again, and moves to hang up but pauses for a moment, looking down at the receiver. "Oh and ma." 

"Yeah Rich?" 

"Feel free to visit anytime." 

He knows she smiles, because when she says, "alright." It sounds joyful.   
_______________

Like always the mail man didn't knock- didn't even ring the bell, just left the package in front of the door, for however long it's been there. What if someone stole it? Well okay, no one would want a old moldy high school yearbook. But that's no matter, Richie checked his front door every 20 minutes anyway, too excited for the damn thing to show up. So it mustn't have been too long. 

He props himself up on his sofa, feeling the cushions collapse under his weight, it's an old piece of shit but getting a new one would be far too much work. He idly began flipping through the book for the next few hours. He doesn't even notice he wasted so much time looking at all the photos until he peers down to his watch. Though he was too enraptured by the mere idea of reliving any memories, if he could just get his brain to work. Every once in a while he'd see someone he really recognized, but couldn't understand why. Something about them, either their name or face sparked the wheels in his head to turn, but they'd always get stuck, cobwebs got in the way. Was he friends with some of these people? Or maybe some of them were bullies, or just classmates. 

His eyes land on Bill Denbrough. He was just a few pages in, and something about the kid made him stare. He just didn't understand why. The happy smile on his lips, it soothes Richie. And he leaves a book mark on that page, so he could look back on it later. 

He hops up and pours himself a drink, just some whisky, make the time pass by smoother. 

The point of this wasn't to reminisce on things he couldn't remember, anyway. After asking his mom to send this him it, he figured it was a waste of time. He was pretty sure Eddie wouldn't be anywhere in the book, he just needed an excuse to get his phone number. 

But to his surprise, after flipping through a few more pages of faked smiles, and awkward pained expressions, he paused, there it was.

Your's truly, Eddie Kasbrak, heart. Right underneath his yearbook photo. 

He wrote a heart next to his name. Huh. 

The tiny Eddie actually genuinely smiling back at him from the page, makes tiny hurricanes swirl in his gut. 

So they DID know each other, enough so that Eddie signed his yearbook with 'your's truly' and a tiny, heart, that made Richie feel like he was dying. Fuck he suddenly was having the worse headache he couldn't even focus on the book in front of him, it was all blurry. 

He took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes, and with the other hand reached out to grab his whisky, and pound it down in one go. It burned going down, a distinct bitter taste calmed his nerves, the pain settled him into reality. 

He rubbed his temples, eyes flicking to the book and then back down to his wrist. The lucky seven. 

He grabs the book and flips it to the back, and scattered across the pages, were 6 other people's signatures. He couldn't make out every single one of the names. But one stuck out to him, Beverly Marsh, written in pink, it was in cute cursive. Something about that made him want to vomit. 

'I miss her.'

Richie decides in that moment, to finally call Eddie.   
________________

It was a long, awkward conversation, mainly consisting of Richie making stupid jokes, poorly attempting to flirt with the man, and Eddie's confusion, babbling about the inconsistencies in Richie's story. 

"I'll prove it to you, I'll bring you the year book; you'll see if it's your handwriting or not." He offered as a Hail Mary, and it was a cumbersome task but after a little bit more nudging, Eddie agreed. 

But now, it's lead him here. 

Richie stands awkwardly at the front door of the house shared by Eddie and his Fiancé. It's an actual house, not an apartment like Richie has, it's a commitment. The frame of the brown door is painted white, it's chipping at the edges, and you can see they tried painting over it again and again. Richie wonders how long they've been living together. He hates the fact that he can see white curtains hung up along the windowsills— it makes everything too homey, too domesticated, too happy. It's like both standing at the threshold of the enemy, whilst trying to save the prince, trapped in the tower. He supposes that makes Eddie's fiancé, the dragon. 

And in that moment, after having idiotically already knocked on the door, he thinks maybe he should stop pursuing Eddie, that he should leave and never come back. He didn't want to be the home wrecker. He didn't want to be the reason those curtains would have to come down. He didn't want to be the man Lily cheated on him with. 

But he doesn't move, his feet won't let him, and when Eddie swings open the door, Richie gets this nostalgic déjà vu moment, watching Eddie's eyes fall onto Richie. He feels like wax amongst a flame, melting slowly, then all at once. Eddie, was just as breath taking as before, just, now Richie could fully admire it. 

Richie suddenly realized why he so desperately wants to be with this guy. The moment Richie met him at that party, he knew their souls were intertwined. And fuck it if Richie wasn't going to chase after that. 

He's enthralling, dominating, and profound all in one swell swoop of his chestnut gaze. Fuck Richie wants to drink Eddie's aura, and get drunk off the sweet taste of him. He smells so much like what goodness smells like. It's ardent, a intense consumption lavender body wash, rubbing alcohol, and a excessive amount of hand sanitizer. It's comforting. Like home. It's so familiar. And he begins to worry. 

No, don't be that guy. Just— just, be Eddie's friend. He can do that right? Plus there's not wrong with being his friend. He can reconnect with the guy, be two buddies who used to be friends in high school, who are just looking through some old shit from the good ol' days.   
Yeah that's fine, and perfectly platonic. 

"Hey." Eddie says and Richie almost completely drops his convictions and kisses the guy. Jesus calm the fuck down Tozier, all he said was hey. Keep your dick in your pants. 

'Heh, you? Self control?' That damn voice is back, mocking him. 

"Hey." Richie replies, focusing on his poster. Does his hair look nice? Did he make sure to shower? Yes actually he showered twice before coming here. Did he have something in his teeth? Why was his hands suddenly so sweaty. Oh my god did he look like an absolute idiot right now fidgeting in front of the door? 

"Come on in." Eddie beckons ending Richies misery, and in that moment he melts into the welcome mat below his feet when Eddie sends him a reassuring smile. Oh he's fucked.  
________________

Richie meets Myra, she is, well surprisingly sweet. And it's fucking pissing him off how kind she was. Eddie had went to his (and Myra's) bedroom to look for his old yearbook, and Myra sat next to Richie at the dining room table. It was a nice deep red color. But the rest of the house seemed kind of empty. No photos, no decorations, just the necessities. He so badly wants her to be a bad person, so he can hate her and justify doing this, being here to swoon her fiancé but life isn't fair like that.

They look through the yearbook together, and she comments on how cute Eddie used to be as a kid. Richie can't help but laugh and agree. Though he thinks Eddie is still rather cute. 

It was rather pleasant being around Myra, and Eddie was a rather pleasant person as well. That's why it is so fucking confusing to Richie, that when Eddie finally returned, the two almost immediately started arguing with each other. About the most mundane things too. The contretemps continues, and Richie feels rather put in a rather vexatious position sitting between this disharmony. 

It doesn't take much long to realize that—  
Obviously, those two aren't meant for each other. But it is neither more so one or the others fault. They just don't mend well, Myra needs to feel needed too much, and Eddie needs to be dotted on like a child. But. When they are apart, they are both, sensible, independent people.

It wasn't that Eddie was terrible to Myra, or that Myra was terrible to Eddie. They were just terrible together. 

What about being together, brings out the worst in both of them? 

Myra excused herself after a while, leaving to the bedroom to collect herself, she had tears in her eyes, and Richie avoids eye contact the best he can. Jesus that was awkward. 

Eddie turns to Richie with apologetic eyes, it seems they don't get much guests and Richie wonders how he found himself in such a relationship like this? It was rather shocking watching Eddie get so high tempered and annoyed, and watch the sweet woman become weepy and upset. Yet somehow Richie didn't find himself any less attracted to the man. Even after that shit show of a display. 

Richie was pretty sure, it's probably cause he had some lingering daddy issues but that not the point-

"Show me around." Richie offers to try and save the evening, and Eddie seems to appreciate it. He sends Richie this smile, one that crooks at the side of his mouth, it sends adulation straight down to the center of Richie's core, and he swears he knew how to breath just a moment before. They both look around Eddie's house, it smells of bleach and potpourri— once again, his assessment of it being rather empty was true. There wasn't even clocks on the walls, or really a coffee table. He supposes they don't spend much time together in the house. Though there was at least one book shelf with a few books scattered about, Richie approaches it, noticing Eddie had a lot of books written by William Denbrough. 

Oh shit. 

Ding ding. You shit head, déjà—FUCKING-vu.

"Hey uh- Eds." Richie begins, touching the binding of one of the books. Instantly the man scolds him, face scrunching up unpleasantly "don't call me that, that isn't my name." He says annoyed, and Richie's heart flutters down into his gut, taking a fucking nose dive into his stomach acid. He felt like he might both vomit, and or fall in love. So, basically gross. 

"Why do you have so many books by this guy? You like horror?" He asked, trying to test out his theory. Well it isn't really a theory, because that would mean there was rhyme or reason to any of this. He remembers. Bill Denbrough. From the yearbook, why did he recognize him? Maybe Richie had read one of his books. Though Richie isn't much of the reading type. 

Eddie peers over Richie's shoulder, at the books in question, and scratches the side of his face in thought. "No, actually I don't really like horror all that much. I just kind of bought them on impulse." He says slowly, like he didn't understand why either.

"Why?" Richie turns to the man, feeling his breath escape him at the sudden closeness. Eddie was so much shorter then him, maybe a whole foot, but he had these eyes— it was like he owned the world, like he was first and foremost, the one and only. Richie wished he had that confidence. 

"I guess- something about the books were familiar." Eddie says, and it throws Richie for a loop. Like puzzle pieces where coming together, building— something. He just, he still didn't have the whole picture. It was distorted and confusing. 

Richie tells himself to control his emotions. Don't have a damn panic attack in this dude's house. You already look like a maniac as it is.

Eddie leads him back around to the dining room, so they could actually do what they were meant to do in the first place. Eddie makes them both cups of tea, and Richie happily nurses the drink. He hates tea but he needed to do something with his hands. And to his surprise Eddie makes the tea deadly sweet, just the way Richie likes it. 

They sit next to each other as Richie flips through his book, and finds the page, 'your's truly. Eddie kaspbrak. Heart' 

Eddie stares at the page, and he quiets down, brows twitching in thought at the writing. He scoots closer to Richie to inspect the words, reaching out the touch the page, like it might take him back in time. Eddie settles right to Richie's left side, his body inches away, and Richie gets a whiff of his cologne. Wow he smells goo—

Wait-? He wasn't wearing cologne when Richie first showed up— no he— did he.. put on some cologne while he was looking for his yearbook?

What did that mean. 

Richie ignores that information, and picks up Eddie's yearbook instead. Anything to avoid thinking about the way it made his heart race. The book was in far better condition, the edges were crisp and well kept. Richie opens it up and searches for the page with his photo. There he was, in all his glory, bulky coke bottle glasses and messy hair. But there was nothing sighed under it. 

Huh. Maybe Richie didn't sign people's books? But now that he was flipping through the pages, he noticed that there were NO signatures in Eddie's year book at all. 

"Uh. Did, no one sign yours?" Richie questions, looking at the unmarked pages, and Eddie's head snaps up to look at Richie. God why are his eyes so pretty? "Oh, yeah, I think I didn't want anyone to sign it cause my mom wanted it to 'not get ruined' or something. But look here—"

He reached over Richie's arm, flipping the book to the back page, and once again no signatures, but there was a piece of notebook paper folded up and shoved into the crease of the book. Richie picked it up, opening up the page to see multiple signatures scattered about the paper. 

Quickly he grabbed his own yearbook from Eddie's hands and flipped the book open to the back, exposing the multiple signatures scattered about. His eyes flicked back and forth between both pages, and began noticing a lot of the signatures and notes where made by the exact same people. 

Beverly, Mike, Ben, Bill, Stan... who were these people and why did they all sign both of their yearbooks? Why were they the ONLY people who signed their yearbooks? 

Then Richie's eyes flicked down to his own handwriting, right smack in the middle, big obnoxious letters. 'I love you Eddie Spaghetti!!'

Richie choked on his tea. 

Spaghetti. 

Richie feels the room spin, it’s closing in on him, harsh and throbbing pains spike through his skull and he tries to hold onto any last semblance of sanity. 

I love you. 

Well. That wasn't as subtle as 'Your's truly, heart' now was it? 

He let his eyes move over to Eddie, who was still inspecting the pages. His eyes trace the indents of the words, like he was still grasping the meaning, and then he spoke, soft and under his breath,"Huh."

—and really?? That's it?? Huh?

"Yeah." Richie replies and okay, that was just as pathetic. And for a while they both don't say anything. They just stare at the pages, trying to decipher what it all meant. Perhaps they liked joking around like that as kids? That was a reasonable explanation. But Richie has a feeling that wasn't the case, and that Eddie realized that as well. 

Still. At the end of the day Richie has to except he is pursuing an engaged man, how could he live with himself if Eddie cheated on a woman who doesn't deserve it? 

Richie tells himself to control his want. To take this information with a grain of salt. Wiping the words from his memory, they weren’t important anymore. 

Eddie then begins speaking, unprompted, and it surprises Richie, takes him off guard as that same soft voice breathed out, "I've never much had control over my life." He admits, pressing his fingers to the pages of the books, like trying to regain his youth, to hold onto the string of independence and Richie stares, not knowing if he should say anything or not. "it's suffocating. Really. My mom chose who I was going to marry, how i was going to dress, live my life, where I'd live, and how I'd live it. But-" he slowly closed both yearbooks, turning to look at Richie, his eyes were like pits that Richie could just fall into, lost and hopeful at the same time, "to know that I broke those rules as a kid. That I was my own person and I did as I pleased. That makes me happy to know I wasn't always so pathetic." His voice was soft, broken. Quickly, almost instinctively Richie reaches out to cup his cheek. 

"Hey. No, don't-" he pulls his hand away, like he had just touched fire, realizing he shouldn't have done that, but Eddie's eyes shine with, comfort. He was okay with Richie's touch. So he reaches back out, this time to take Eddie's hand. 

So they used to be lovers. That's at least what they both assumed. It made sense why Richie was so attracted to him, was so drawn to his familiarity. It just didn't make sense why neither of them remembered something like that but. 

So, they were, something. Well they at least, used to be. And Eddie gives him this look, his eyes scan the curves and dips of Richie's face, his eyes, his lips, down his shoulders and he hums. He finally gave himself the chance to check out Richie without shame, and Richie felt his cheeks flush red. 

"Well." Eddie began with an amused smile, "at least I had some taste." 

Richie snorts, his head falling back in a soft laugh, "oh you flatter me." He grins when he meets the other man's eyes again, "you're not so bad yourself hot stuff." 

Eddie actually cackles, and pride swells in Richie's chest. HE did that. He made him laugh. Fuck, and for some reason that's all he wanted to do. To see that again, to see him smile. 

And just as quickly as that smile appears on his features, they disappear. Oh. Right. Even if they are high school sweethearts, that doesn't change anything about their current lives. 

Eddie was engaged, engaged. That's something you can't, just call off on a whim because of what? Your ex, mind you that, you don't even remember- suddenly bumps into you at a office party? That's not an excuse. That's nothing compared to living in a house together. That's nothing compared to the commitment of a relationship. Not just some high school fling. Not something so unimportant you both don't even remember a single detail about it. 

"Friends?" Richie asks, offering his hand to Eddie's, and the man eyes him like he just lost his mind, but another, god, breath taking smile takes a hold of his lips, and he takes Richie's hand slowly. "Friends." 

"Stay for dinner." He continued after a little bit of reminiscing. And Richie can't help but agree. Anything for him. Eddie could ask him to walk off a cliff, and Richie would do it with his eyes wide open.  
__________________

Myra, lucky enough, had to leave that night, she was going to see her friends at a baby shower. Before she leaves however, she insists Eddie kisses her as she waits by the front door. Eddie's shoulders seem so stiff, but he listens to the woman easily. Richie looks away purposely, focusing on chopping the onion in front of him. It makes his eyes water slightly. 

What does?

The onion of course. 

"And I thought you were a handful?" Eddie jokes, sliding back in place next to Richie once the front door shut closed. He grabs a knife and another chopping block, peering over Richie's shoulder to see his progress. He then dices up some bell peppers, about ten times quicker then Richie is his own task, and the man stares. "Show off." He jabs, moving to wash his hands and Eddie chuckles, using the knife to slide the peppers into an oiled pan. "What can I say. I'm a man of many talents." 

"Oh? Tell me Edwardo, what else can you do Mr. talented?" Richie challenges, pulling his body up onto the kitchen Island. Obviously Eddie reprimands him for it, but Richie remains seated, much to Eddie's dismay. 

"I'm good at not being an ASSHOLE." He says pointedly, cocking a hip to the side and glaring at Richie, happily sitting on the marble countertop in the center of the kitchen. The glare just makes Richie's cheeky smile widen. 

"Oh common, I bet as a kid you were a real ass." Richie jokes, and Eddie pauses for a moment, lost in thought, before continuing to cook. Richie stares at the back of his head with questioning gaze. "What?" He asked, and Eddie just shrugs. But there was obviously something on his mind. 

"Eds-" 

Eddie audibly sighs, "I just don't really remember my childhood really." He says deflated, and Richie purses his lips. 

"Really?" 

"Really." 

"I don't remember mine either." He replies, and Eddie lets his eyes move away from the food for a moment. "Really?" 

"Yeah." Richie says easily, eyes lingering up at the ceiling. "I'm trying to remember it actually. Been for a while. You're- well, you are the first person, or thing from my past I've had much interaction with. It's just, I'm kind of sad even after talking to you, and realizing what we used to be. Why haven't my memories come back?" Was he doomed to be a amnesiac? 

"That's funny because. I don't. Well I don't remember anything very much involving Derry." He offered as well, and Richie finally let his eyes fall onto him. He was smiling up at Richie, and it confused him. Why was he smiling? Neither of them remembered their childhood. That's a sad thing. 

"Well. What do you remember?" Richie really just asked as an excuse to learn more about him. But Eddie didn't seem to mind, turning back around the stir the food. 

"Well. I remember, after leaving Derry, College, mainly. Most of my classes and studies revolves around risk and health. It was boring really but, hey it was something I knew a lot about already, something I was good at. I did do track though, I don’t know why but I just wanted to run, it was MY version of rebellion.” He laughs softly, like he was lame because of it, but it just made Richie admire him more, and his leeeegs, wowza no wonder they looked so nice, “I have a few trophy’s in my room, nothing too crazy, I usually got second or third place.” He flipped the chicken in the pan, searing the side of it to a nice deep brown.

“I remember my mom dying.” He says somber after a moment, he was sad about her death honestly, Richie can hear it in his voice but something about his posture told Richie that he also grew stronger from the experience, that he didn’t let it weight him down, he was strong, brave even, “quit track, I had to focus on my studies, and- well I did explore my sexuality a little bit at that time. Just a few guys is all.” Richies ears perked up at that. Wow he would have taken Eddie as a closet case. But, you know what they say about college. 

What? What the fuck do they say about college Richie? 

Uh i don’t know. What happens in college stays in college?

That’s Vegas dumb ass. 

Oh, right. 

Eddie continues speaking, and Richie is pulled out of thought, god he was crazy if nothing else if all he did was have argument with HIMSELF all the time in his head. “I was working as a manager for the general public committee at a a grocery store, and part time school nurse assistant.” Eddie adds on at the end, and Richie can’t help but make fun of it, “oh a nurse huh?” He teased and he can see Eddie roll his eyes but he has this cute grin on his lips that eggs Richie one more. “haha I know, real funny.” He pokes back sarcastically.

“Did you wear one of those cute nurse outfits, mini skirt included?” Richie tries, finally hopping down from the counter to see how far Eddie has gotten with the meal, and mainly just to get closer to him. 

Eddie snorts, reaching out to smack the back of Richie’s head, and the man pouts at him in turn, a shit eating grin replacing the pout after Eddie glares at him. He knows, they haven’t technically really spent much time together that he is aware of. But it felt so natural interacting with him, cracking jokes, being near him. Like they had been friends for as long as he remembers, even though he doesn’t remember. He felt safe, he felt happy, he felt at home. It was so foreign yet felt so familiar all at once. 

“Would you be aposed to wearing one? You know, a skirt?” Richie flirted, bold of him, but he couldn't help himself, placing a hand on Eddie’s waist like he was measuring to see what the right size might be. 

Eddie glared again, hot and feisty, "short answer? No." He said like it was set in stone. 

Richie leaned forward into his space, grinning, "what's the long answer?" He drew out his word, especially the draw of 'looong', wiggling his eyebrows. 

"What is wrong with you?" Eddie asked without any heat, causing Richies lips to twitch with amusement. It's been so long since he's found someone who was so fun to tease, the way Eddie's cheeks flush a bright pink and his voice gets higher with embarrassment. 

"Shut up, I am perfection incarnate." Richie batted his eyelashes, sweeping non-existent long beautiful locks of hair behind his shoulder. 

"Perfectly annoying." Eddie grumbles under his breath, giving Richie a oh-so-cute scowl. 

"Awe you think I'm perfect?" Richie teased further. 

"Oh yeah definitely." Eddie began, stepping closer to him, pressing a finger to his chest, "you're face being one of the perks." He said with a sly smirk. 

Richie raised an eyebrow, actually surprised, "reall—..?" 

"Perfect to punch." Eddie interrupted him, with a dark growl, looking like at any moment he might pop richies head off his body, and throw it out a window. 

Richie grinned at this, "who knows? Maybe that's a kink of mine." He replied, swaying his hips back and forth like a supermodel, though he did it terribly. 

Eddie groaned, annoyed with Richie, moving away to grab some plates. 

Aw yes, food is done. And honestly it smelt rather amazing. He followed after Eddie, as he set up the table. 

"You're insufferable and have an ego the size of-" Eddie began. 

"Oh let's not get into size comparisons," he said lewdly, a wild grin on his face, and he could not hold back the laugh that rumbled through his body when Eddie gasped, swatting his chest, but not very hard, he was blushing and Richie felt victorious.

Richie stopped flirting for long enough for them to actually start eating, sitting next to each other like before, Richie rests his chin on his hand, looking over at the pretty man. He had a napkin in his lap and everything all proper like. Could he get any cuter? 

“So whatcha do now? You know what I do obviously.” Since they literally met at one of Richie’s gigs. Eddie wipes his mouth with a napkin, setting it down to speak to Richie. “Right now, working for corporate company, risk annalasiz. Stocks, insurance stuff like that.” He said easily, and Richie nodded even though he didn’t understand that shit at all. 

“Boring, hopefully you'll do something else when you’re older kiddo.” He said reaching up to mess up Eddie’s hair, and the man rolls his eyes. “Haha.” He dead pans, grabbing Richie’s hand away from his head and pulling him close like he was about to beat him up. Richie instinctively blocks the attack, reaching out to pinch the bridge of Eddie’s nose and Eddie laughs. “Hey—!” He grips Richie’s hair, pulling his head to the side and Richie hisses, “hey no fair!” He practically giggles, and for a little bit they wrestle each other’s hands, reaching out to tickle necks and the sides of their bodies, wiggling around like children and laughing at each other. Eddie grabs him by the collar, pulling him up to face him, as the man glares playfully at Richie. But then their noses brush together and they both realize just how close they ended up. 

And suddenly the air in the room shifts, and Richie feels his heart banging around the inside of his rib cage, causing his body all types of internal bleeding he’s sure. Breath, breath. You know how to breath right? Up close he can see the speckles of gold in Eddie’s eyes. And his pretty long eyelashes, and the way he’s looking at Richie—

The way he’s looking at Richie. 

He didn’t understand why, but Eddie looked at Richie like he was actually attractive, and you know what, in that moment he kind of believed it, if someone like Eddie was willing to be so close. 

Richie feels his breath hitch, and goosebumps rise over his shoulders and arms when fingers slide up the side of his jaw. Eddie presses his hand to Richie’s cheek, and Richie leans into it, like a puppy dying for affection. He can see Eddie’s eyes flick down to his lips a few times and he swears he is getting light headed. 

“I-“ Richie tries but can’t get out words because there are lips over his. And almost like electric fire, Richie’s blood boils with passion and he surges forward to kiss back. He grabs the back of Eddie’s neck, pulling him up and into his lap. And fuck, Richie might seriously be dying because his heart raced at a million miles an hour.

His lips were so soft, and warm, and oh- OH, Eddie shoves his tongue deep inside Richie’s mouth and he melts right then and there on the spot. Eddie licks the back of his teeth, while Richie tries to reach out, grab anything, stabilize himself in reality. He find’s Eddie’s hip’s and grips hard. 

Well. So much for ‘just being friend’ huh?

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya! Hope you enjoyed this. It was my first time trying to write like some comedy material, so please don’t destroy me for how bad it was. I just wanted to make one myself, rather then copy and paste some other comedians work, (though it’s still cool when other people do it.) anyway, buckle up babies. We going on a ride.


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